


I Come Alone Here

by thelemonisinplay



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Depression, Gen, Hopeful Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:43:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelemonisinplay/pseuds/thelemonisinplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin is stuck on an island. Written for the Cabin Crew Riot 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Come Alone Here

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Cabin Crew Riot 2, Prompt #4: Survival (Islands)
> 
> and yes, making the island metaphorical was probably cheating a bit!

He’s not sure how long he’s been out here, watching the waves. It feels like forever, but at the same time only a few minutes. It’s difficult to judge time, lately.

But it’s quite soothing, just watching. Water crashes into the beach all the time, waves rushing towards land like it’s important, like it has a purpose. Like people. Running around, making bookings and working out finances and rushing their kids to school. It’s exhausting just thinking about it.

It used to feel like it was enough. Living, day to day, eating and laughing and delivering, and  _flying and flying and flying_. He used to be so lost in the romance of being in the air, the joy of knowing that he was in charge of making sure that this metal box stayed in the air, the exhilaration –

And, well. That still comes back, sometimes. But there isn’t that excitement, the anticipation of getting up in the air that came before a flight, anymore. And he’s not so much living as existing, surviving, struggling through to the end of every day.

Some people describe depression as a fog. Martin disagrees. Fogs are escapable.

It’s more like – like an island, he thinks, looking away from the waves for the first time in quite a while. A tiny, empty island, covered only in rocks and sand and horrible biting insects. Nobody goes there because nobody wants to, and so nobody ever sees the pathetic figure of a short, skinny ginger man in a captain’s hat hugging his knees and staring blankly towards one of the rocks. People go past, sometimes, in little boats, all together and laughing at jokes he wishes he could find amusement in. But they don’t stop. They might not even see that it’s there. And he’s trapped.

He sits down on the beach, goes back to watching waves.

It feels like hours later when something touches his shoulder.

“Hi, Skip! We’ve been looking for you!”

It’s Arthur, of course, holding out a hand to help Martin up. He takes it. And he sees Carolyn and Douglas, further away, waiting.

“Where have you  _been_ , Martin?” Carolyn asks, scolding, with a little frown that he recognises as concern.

Oh, that concern.

It’s like the people in their little boats have seen something out of the corner of their eye. A bit of rock. The island. It’s the realisation that maybe one day, they might reach it, and he might not be trapped there by himself anymore.

And that’s enough to let his mouth curve up into a little, hopeful hint of a smile.


End file.
